Christmas Tales
by TT-5
Summary: A collection of some Christmas stories focusing on the Foyle family over the years.
1. 1926

December 24, 1926

The church was full, just as it always was on Christmas Eve, and Rosalind Foyle smiled as she glanced quickly around seeing faces that she saw every Sunday mingled with those of people she had not seen in church since Easter. To be fair most people in Hastings were fairly committed churchgoers but there were some who were only to be seen on High Holy Days.

She smiled at them all but couldn't help the pang in her heart for the one face she didn't see. Her brother Charles, who had joined them in Hastings for Christmas every year that he wasn't deployed since Andrew was born, was currently deployed somewhere in the North Sea.

Rosalind had always been proud of her brother, proud of his service to their country and she knew that he had loved the navy since he was a little boy. But knowing all of these things didn't make her worry any less about his safety or make it any easier when the holidays came and he was at sea.

At least Alice had come down to join them. Rosalind always worried about Alice while Charles was deployed, especially as she had no other family nearby. Her sister had recently moved to Canada with her husband and their children and both of her parents had passed away now, her mother just this past March. She knew Charles worried about Alice too and he had confided in more than a few letters that he always felt better when he heard that Alice had spent a few days with her and Christopher.

' _Speaking of Christopher…_ ' He had walked Andrew to church early, the choir master always wanted the boys there in time for a last minute rehearsal, and then come back to escort her and Alice just as they had discussed. When the reached the steps of St. Clements though a young constable had approached and very apologetically informed Christopher that he was requested at the station if at all possible.

Rosalind had wanted to protest but Christopher had just sighed and kissed her cheek murmuring, "Promise I'll be back in time to hear Andrew" before striding away with the constable.

That had been over a quarter of an hour ago now and the service would start soon. She turned to look at the door again. Getting called out at any time was one of the hazards of Christopher's profession and she was just as proud of him as she was of Charles but she couldn't help wishing that someone else could have dealt with whatever it was.

Before she could fret further about the matter Alice asked her if Andrew had any solos and by the time their conversation had ended the service was about to begin although there was still no sign of Christopher. ' _Hopefully he'll be here soon, he does know what time they were supposed to start.'_

Although she checked several times Christopher did not appear and Rosalind finally resigned herself to the fact that whatever had come up at the station must be serious. Silently sending up a prayer for Christopher's safety she turned her full attention back to the service, determined to remember every detail so as to be able to relate them to Christopher when he asked later.

The choir started with "Hark! The Harold Angels Sing" followed immediately by "Joy to the World" and "God rest ye Merry Gentlemen" before giving way to Reverend Matthews. The customary passages of Luke were read and Rosalind couldn't help marveling as she always did at the timelessness of the Christmas Eve service.

It didn't matter that they were at a different church in a different town than she had grown up in, she might as well have been seven, for so much of the service was just as she remembered.

Reverend Matthews' homily was relatively short and quite good-humored as his usually were and the choir soon rose again to sing the last songs of the evening. The boys' well-trained voice filled the church beautifully and Rosalind could hardly believe that these were the same muddy little boys who so often trooped into her house for tea.

Andrew stepped forward with two other boys who had solos in the next song and Rosalind couldn't help the nervous feeling in her gut, wishing for Christopher's reassuring grip on her hand. Andrew had a lovely voice and the choirmaster had great hopes of turning him into the choir's main boy soprano before his voice broke, something that Andrew seemed willing to go along with.

They sang "Oh Holy Night" so beautifully that both Rosalind and Alice had tears in their eyes and then launched into "Angels from the Realms of Glory." Rosalind closed her eyes as the music swelled, smiling softly as Andrew's voice sang the opening verse alone.

" _Angels, from the realms of glory,_

 _Wing your flight o'er all the earth;  
Ye who sang creation's story,  
Now proclaim Messiah's birth_."

The choir joined him on the chorus filling the church with heavenly music:

" _Come and worship, come and worship  
Worship Christ, the newborn King."_

 _"Shepherds, in the fields abiding,  
Watching o'er your flocks by night_,"

Andrew began and then his voice faltered and Rosalind's eyes flew open just in time to see her son give a shout of glee and race towards the back of the church.

She turned with the rest of the congregation and watched as he threw himself into the arms of a tall naval officer. Rosalind stared unable to believe her eyes as she watched her brother hold her son close, noticing belatedly that Christopher was standing to Charles' left, a soft smile on his face.

"Oh Uncle Charles, you're home!" Andrew's words seemed to jolt her back to life and with Alice she rose from the pew and made her way to where Charles and Christopher were standing, Andrew still clinging tightly to Charles' neck.

They all looked up as Rosalind and Alice approached and Charles' face broke into an even wider smile as he handed Andrew to Christopher and opened his arms to his wife. Alice flew to him and for a long while they simply held each other and then Charles kissed her cheek and released her so he could give Rosalind a hug.

"Happy Christmas Rosy" he murmured into her hair and Rosalind couldn't help the tears that dampened his already damp shoulder. No one but Charles called her Rosy, not even Christopher, and it was then that she truly accepted that this wasn't a dream but that her brother was actually home, miraculously home for Christmas.

The organ began the opening bars of "Away in A Manger" and they all suddenly remembered that they were not only in church, but also in full view of the congregation. Alice and Rosalind blushed while Andrew squirmed in his father's arms, "I need to go sing Daddy!" Christopher chuckled and set him down.

Soft laughter filled the church as Andrew hurried back down the aisle to retake his place, saying sincerely and audibly to the choirmaster, "Sorry Mr. Morris but that's my Uncle Charles and he's been away for a longtime on his battleship." Mr. Morris nodded understandingly and as the Foyles' and Howards' returned to their seats strains of "Away in a Manger" filled the church.

Hours later, after they had made it home from the service and after an overexcited Andrew had finally been put to bed and the presents were placed under the tree and the stockings filled Christopher and Charles explained everything.

Charles had found out two weeks earlier that there was a chance they would be back in port early and had promptly telegrammed Christopher, not wanting to tell anyone else in case it hadn't come off. They had been lucky enough to make very good time and had made port by the 23rd.

He had telephoned Christopher as soon as possible and then set about trying to get down to Hastings, something easier said then done with the holiday rush. Given that they didn't know when he would get it they had agreed that he would ring the station when he reached Hastings. Christopher then took up the story explaining that he had brought both Hugh Reid and John Rivers on board with the plan incase he was out when Charles called.

Reid had been working the desk that evening and had dispatched a constable to find Foyle while he himself drove one of the station cars to the train station to pick up Charles.

"So that's why you didn't complain about that constable coming to fetch you!" Rosalind exclaimed when this part of the story was explained.

Christopher laughed, "Yes, I thought Thompson sold it quite well. Anyway we had meant to be make it back to the church much sooner but then something really did come up at the station which Hugh needed a hand with…nothing serious" he added quickly at Rosalind's worried look.

"Timing seemed to work out fairly well anyway" Charles mused as he took a sip of tea, completely failing to hide the smile on his face.

They all laughed and then Rosalind got to her feet, "Well Andrew is bound to be up early tomorrow so I suggest we all get some rest." She crossed to her brother and kissed his cheek, "Happy Christmas Charles, your being here is the best gift I could have ever asked for."

Charles smiled his eyes very soft, as he murmured, "No where else I'd rather be Rosy."

So it was that the Foyle household was filled with unexpected joy and the warmth of family on one unforgettable Christmas.


	2. 1924

December 24, 1924

Christopher Foyle crouched in front of the hearth and began to poke the banked fire back to life, mind already running through the things he needed to do that day.

"NO!" Startled he turned and saw his five-year-old son rushing towards him, "You mustn't Daddy!"

"I mustn't what Andrew?"

"Light the fire!"

Foyle frowned, "Why not? I light it every morning."

"But it's Christmas _Eve_ Daddy!"

Andrew spoke as if this explained everything but Foyle was still frowning, "It is but that's no reason for us to freeze."

" _Daddy_ Father Christmas comes down the chimney and if you light the fire he'll get burned up!" Andrew's eyes had widened at the horror of such a thing and Foyle had to bite back a chuckle as he ruffled his son's hair affectionately.

"It's all right Andrew Father Christmas comes late at night, after everyone's asleep and I promise I'll put the fire out before I go to bed all right?"

Andrew shook his head stubbornly, "No Daddy, the chimney will still be hot just like how the Shepherd's pie dish is hot even after Mummy takes it out of the oven and Father Christmas will get burned!"

There had never been a question about Andrew being bright and normally that made him very proud, at the moment though he was chilly and hungry and what he really wanted to do was light the fire and have breakfast.

He thought for a moment, trying to come up with a solution that would be deemed appropriate by a five year old. "Right, well what if we put the fire out a bit earlier than normal, Father Christmas wouldn't want us to be cold all day would he? He has to be out in the cold all that time in his sleigh and I'm sure he wants somewhere nice and warm to drink his milk and eat his biscuits."

Andrew considered this very seriously, his young brow furrowing in a way that made him look so like his father that Rosalind, who had overheard their conversation and was standing unseen in the doorway, had to stifle a giggle at the sight of her little boy looking so like her husband.

Finally Andrew nodded, "All right, I wouldn't want Father Christmas to be cold but we have to put it out by tea."

Foyle smiled, "A little later would be all right too but we can talk about that after lunch. Now want to give me a hand?" Andrew nodded eagerly and Rosalind turned back to the kitchen smiling as she listened to their voices rise and fall in conversation.


	3. Christmas Eve 1945

_Christmas Eve 1945_

Andrew made it through 2 hymns before the church felt too warm, so full of joy he didn't seem capable of feeling anymore that it was cloying.

He took a deep breath, fiddled with his collar, rubbed at his knee and finally gave up and leaned over to Dad whispering; "back in a minute" before sliding out of the pew and walking quietly to the back of the church.

He could feel Dad's eyes on him but he didn't follow and Andrew breathed a sigh of relief. He just needed some air and maybe a smoke. He was fine. He repeated the mantra too himself as he put on his leather flying jacket and slipped outside.

It was cold and Andrew welcomed the way the air bit his lungs, he shrugged deeper into his jacket, noticing as he did so that his hands had steadied since he'd put it on. He snorted a humorless laugh at how his body still forced itself into battle-readiness at the faintest possibility that he might fly, never mind that he hadn't flown an op in over 7 months.

He reached for a cigarette but before he could fumble the packet out of his pocket he noticed a young woman approaching the church carrying a fussing baby. He forced a smile and started back towards the steps, "May I get the door for you?"

"Oh no thank you, I don't want to disturb the service and Teddy won't stop fussing." She looked exhausted and Andrew frowned.

"I…you're going to think this awfully forward of me, but may I walk him for you?" The young woman blinked at him in surprise and Andrew held out his hand, "I'm not sure if we've met, I'm Andrew Foyle."

Shifting the baby she took it, "Lucy Downs and this young rascal is Ted. You're DCS Foyle's son then?"

Andrew took a sharp breath, caught off guard by the surge of relief at once again being recognized for who his father was as opposed to the rank on his sleeve. "That's right. Do you know the Reids?"

Mrs. Downs nodded, "Yes, Mrs. Reid has been wonderful, my own Mum's up in Newcastle and my Ed being deployed…"

She trailed off awkwardly and Andrew wondered where Mr. Downs was now but pushed down the urge to ask and said instead, "Well I've known their daughters since they were even younger than Ted, so I do actually have some experience with babies; I promise I won't drop him."

Mrs. Downs laughed, "I never thought you would but surely you'd rather be in the service than out here in the cold?"

Andrew felt his face go wooden but forced himself to take a deep breath, "I found it a little too warm, I'm going to be out here for a bit regardless and I really would be more than happy to take a turn around the church with Ted."

Mrs. Downs studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing and Andrew wondered if ability to see through half-truths was a skill women acquired as soon as they became mothers. Whatever she may have read in his expression caused her face to soften and after glancing from her son to the church and back to him she nodded. "If you're certain?"

Andrew grinned, "Positive." She smiled back and carefully extracted the well-swaddled baby from where he was tucked inside her coat. Andrew unzipped his own jacket and soon had little Teddy settled securely against his chest.

"We'll just take a few turns, I won't leave the churchyard and just call if you want me."

Mrs. Downs smiled, "I will, I'll be sitting in the last pew on the right so come and get me as soon as you've had enough."

Andrew nodded and watched her make her way inside before glancing back at the baby who was staring up at him slightly suspiciously, as if trying to decide if he were happy with this new arrangement. "Hello there, I realize we haven't been properly introduced, I'm Andrew and I gather you're Ted."

The baby gave an unhappy mewl and Andrew rubbed his back soothingly as he began to walk slowly around the side of the church, "I know I'm not as lovely as your Mum but she needs a bit of a rest."

As he paced, keeping up the one-sided conversation Andrew lost track of time and it surprised him when he heard the strains of carols, which marked the end of the service, coming through the door. He glanced down at little Ted, who was still fighting sleep and began to hum along with "Away in A Manger" letting the noise travel through his chest.

Two carols later Ted was asleep and as strains of "Oh Holy Night" cut through the cold night air, Andrew looked down at the infant sleeping peacefully and trustingly in his arms and realized that his actions had helped to create a world where babies like Ted could sleep without fear of air raids or the threat of invasion.

The knowledge warmed him to the core and as the choir sang in celebration of the birth of the Christ child, Andrew stood in the cold churchyard holding a perfectly ordinary little boy who had unknowingly given him back something Andrew had feared he had lost forever, the gift of joy.

When he found his father, after returning Ted to his mother, Dad gave him a long and searching look and Andrew watched as his shoulders relaxed and his eyes warmed at whatever he found. They said goodnight to the Reids and their other friends and walked home, neither speaking until they had hung their coats.

"Tea?"

Andrew nodded but before his father could step away he pulled him into a hug, "Happy Christmas Dad and…thanks"

There was so much more he wanted to say but he didn't know how to frame it into words and he wasn't sure he could have forced it passed the lump in his throat even if he had known what to say.

Thankfully Dad not only spoke in silences but also understood them; he patted Andrew warmly on the back a few times and murmured, "Happy Christmas Andrew…I'm so very glad you're home son."


	4. 1949

December 25, 1949

"Here Dad open this one first." Andrew held out a neatly wrapped package with a bright smile.

Foyle smiled back, "If you insist." Andrew nodded eagerly reminding his father powerfully of Christmases when he had been a boy and had always wanted him and Rose to open his gifts to them first.

Shaking himself from his memories Foyle looked down at the parcel and carefully unwrapped it revealing a very nice navy scarf that Lily must have knitted. He looked up and smiled, "Thank you, this is lovely."

Lily looked pleased while Andrew nodded impatiently, "Look at the card Dad."

Foyle frowned slightly as he looked back down and saw the small card that had been under the scarf. He glanced up and saw that Andrew was watching him intently. Curiosity piqued he opened it and read the message, " _Happy Christmas Grandpa!"_

He stared at the words uncomprehendingly for a moment, _"Happy Christmas Grandpa!"_ he blinked and looked up at his son and daughter-in-law. "Grandpa? You mean…" He trailed off eyes searching Andrew and Lily's faces before landing on Lily's still-flat stomach and then going back to Andrew's smiling face.

Andrew laughed delightedly, "Yes Dad, Lily's expecting! Ha you should see your face! I haven't seen you this surprised since…"

But whatever memory Andrew had been about to share was lost as his father suddenly got to his feet and pulled him into a firm embrace. Andrew was surprised by the uncharacteristic gesture but returned the hug warmly. When the embrace continued after the customary interval however Andrew frowned slightly, "Dad?"

Foyle released him and took a step back scrubbing a hand across his eyes, "I'm fine Andrew. Congratulations both of you." His voice was slightly rough but very warm, as he looked first at his son and then at Lily.

"How far along?"

"Almost four months." Foyle's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise and Lily hurried on, "We weren't trying to hide it we just wanted to wait in case…"

Foyle nodded understandingly, "No, of course. You look very well. I trust everything's…"

Lily nodded, "Everything's fine."

Foyle smiled and stepped forward to embrace his daughter-in-law gently, "Very glad to hear it. Congratulations Lily."

Lily smiled happily, "Thank you Christopher."

He looked at Andrew, "Well this definitely calls for some Glenlivet, and tea?" He offered Lily with a slightly apologetic smile.

"Tea would be wonderful, thank you Christopher."

Foyle nodded, "Good I'll put the kettle on."

Alone in the kitchen Foyle leant against the counter and felt tears gathering in his eyes as he re-read the card that was still clutched in his hand. _Grandpa_. The simple word evoked so many emotions, happiness, surprise and the lingering sorrow that Rosalind wasn't here to share this moment with him.

By the time the kettle boiled he had managed to compose himself and apart from the smile that was playing at the corner of his mouth as he carried the tea tray into the lounge there was nothing to suggest that he had just received such momentous news.

"I'm surprised you didn't notice Dad" Andrew said once they were all seated with their drinks, "You're so observant I didn't think we'd actually be able to surprise you."

Foyle inclined his head slightly, "I suppose it had crossed my mind." Several times if he were honest. A few months ago when Andrew had mentioned in passing that Lily had been ill several time in the past week, mostly before breakfast, and was going to see the doctor he had wondered but when there was no announcement and Lily looked fine he had dismissed it.

Several times over the last few weeks though he had noticed that Andrew was especially attentive to his wife, not letting her carry anything heavier then a teapot. Even as he had smiled softly, proud of the gentleman that he and Rose had raised, the question had occurred to him but again he had dismissed it and now…

He looked up and smiled, "Still wasn't expect this though, best news I've had in years."

Andrew beamed and looked lovingly at his wife, "You're telling me Dad. I nearly passed out when Lily told me!"

Lily giggled, "He did too! Good thing he was standing right beside the settee."

Foyle smiled indulgently, "So you're due in?"

"The midwife thinks the end of May."

Foyle nodded and the rest of the afternoon passed in pleasant conversation until Andrew and Lily had to leave to dress for dinner at the Hallcourts.

"Your parents know?" Foyle asked as Andrew helped Lily into her coat.

"Yes we told them this morning. I didn't want mother to cry all through dinner."

Foyle nodded, "Very sensible. Well I'll see you all very soon." Elizabeth had insisted he join them for dinner and he had happily accepted.

Andrew nodded and pulled Foyle into a quick hug, "Happy Christmas Dad."

"Happy Christmas Andrew and thank you, this is one the best gifts I have ever received."

Andrew grinned, "Couldn't agree with you more Dad."

Foyle smiled fondly as he watched Andrew carefully escort Lily down the front steps, offering a final wave before he shut the door. Yes, this was a very happy Christmas indeed.


	5. December 1942

December 1942

There was a crowd of constables around the front desk when Foyle and Sam arrived back at the station following a series of interviews regarding the murder the DCS was investigating. There was a decided note of panic in the cacophony of voices and Foyle frowned.

Before he could ask what the problem was however Milner's calm voice cut through the noise, "Quiet down all of you and back up, he's having hard enough time catching his breath without all of you looming over him."

The noise dropped off and as the men moved back Foyle could see that they were grouped around a constable, Patrick Shepherd if he wasn't mistaken, who appeared to be having great difficulty catching his breath. He was sitting on the floor, propped up by Sgt. Rivers, chest heaving as he drew increasingly rapid and shallow breaths.

Foyle frowned and took a step forward, looking from Shepherd to Milner. "What's happened?"

There was a sudden babble of voices before Milner's calm voice silenced them again, "Gentlemen. Constable Locksley, you were with Shepherd weren't you?" Locksley nodded, "Good, will you please tell Mr. Foyle what happened?"

The young constable nodded again, swallowing had as he turned to Foyle, "We were practicing how to take down a fleeing suspect Sir; it was pretty good fun really expect that after a bit Patrick started having trouble catching his breath. We got him to stop but it didn't help so we brought him in and well," He gestured to his friend, brow creased with concern, "Now he's like this. I don't know why Sir it was just a bit of running."

Foyle nodded but felt his frown deepen at the painful wheezing that accompanied each of Shepherd's breaths. "Has anyone rung for Dr. White?"

Milner nodded, "Yes Sir but he's out on a call, they said they'd try and reach him as soon as possible."

Shepherd took another shuddering breath and then started to cough; expelling what little air he was pulling into his lungs his lips starting to turn slightly blue from lack of oxygen. Foyle's eyebrows drew together into a look of great concern, "Sam, bring the car around would you, I think we'd better get him to hospital."

He turned to where Sam had been standing only to find that she was pushing her way through the constables as he watched she knelt in front of Shepherd, discarding her thick driving gloves so she could loosen his collar. "Sam?"

"I think he's having an asthma attack Sir, one of my cousins used to get them when we were children. Patrick you need to try and slow down your breathing, do you understand?"

Shepherd gave a shaky nod and took a deep breath only to dissolve into another coughing fit. "Err hadn't we better get him to hospital Sam?" Foyle asked chewing worriedly on his cheek.

"If we can slow his breathing down he should be all right Sir but we need to hurry."

"Right. What do you need?"

Sam thought for a moment, "A bowl of hot water, it would be better with eucalyptus oil but the steam will help just the same."

Foyle nodded and gestured toward one of the constables who took off at a run toward the kitchen just as Milner said, "I think I've got some eucalyptus candies in my desk if you think that would do?"

Sam nodded, "Yes that should work." Milner nodded back and hurried down the corridor.

Shepherd was still breathing rapidly, possibly more rapidly than before and the wheezing sound seemed to have worsened despite Sam's best efforts to get him to breath more slowly. Foyle frowned and turned to the constable on his left, "Brown can you drive?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good, bring a car around front. Don't waste petrol leaving it running but be ready to go all right?"

"Yes Sir." Brown nodded and hurried away.

Foyle turned back to the other constables who were still watching Shepherd with concern. "The rest of you please return to your duties, we'll call if we need any assistance." The constables nodded and with a chorus of "Yes Sirs" reluctantly bustled away.

The only people left now were Sam and Sgt. Rivers, who was trying to encourage a gasping Shepherd to "Take a deep breath laddie, come on now."

Shepherd seemed unable to comply and Foyle felt his frown deepen as he crouched down beside Sam. "Sam? What can I do?"

"Anything you can think of to get him to calm down a little Sir. If he gets any worse we will have to take him to hospital." Her voice was tight with worry as she kept up a soothing litany, "In…and out, please Patrick you have to try."

It was painfully obvious that the young man was panicking, understandably of course, Foyle could think of few things more terrifying than being unable to breath. The problem was he didn't know how to calm him down; if it had been Andrew that would be one thing, but this was a constable he barely knew and he chewed anxiously on his cheek.

It might have been the arrival of Milner and Harding with the bowl of boiling water that triggered his memory but suddenly Foyle knew what to do as the memory of sitting in a steamy washroom with a croupy Andrew on his lap sprang to mind.

Shepherd was a big lad though, taller than either he or Rivers so one of them sitting behind him wouldn't work.

"What the devil's going on?" Hugh Reid's voice broke through Foyle's thoughts and he glanced up to find his friend hurrying toward them looking deeply concerned.

"Hugh, I'll explain later, come and sit behind Shepherd."

Reid hesitated for less than a minute before doing as Foyle asked and soon had the wheezing constable leaning awkwardly against him. "Christopher?"

"He needs to slow his breathing down Hugh. Shepherd? Patrick?" The constable raised his head slightly his wheezing breaths making Foyle wince in sympathy. "I need you to try and match your breathing with Superintendent Reid's all right? Another nod before the poor lad descended into yet another coughing fit.

His breathing was even shallower when he finally stopped and Reid frowned as he settled Shepherd more firmly against him. "Steady on lad, just breath with me, that's it. Christopher?"

Foyle nodded his understanding; Hugh couldn't breath steadily and calm the lad down at the same time. "Easy Shepherd, in…and out, that's it…"

It was barely noticeable at first but as he matched his breathing with Reid's the bluish tinge began to disappear until Shepherd's lips were once again a normal colour despite the wheezing sound that still accompanied his inhalations.

Reid's big hand rubbed soothing circles on the young man's heaving chest while Foyle and Rivers spoke softly to him and Sam carefully wafted the steam from the bowl towards his face, knowing the warm air would be easier on his struggling lungs. Milner, having dismissed Harding, stood nearby ready to help if needed.

After what felt like hours, but was actually less than a quarter of an hour, Sam looked over at Foyle, a relieved smile on her face, "I think he'll be all right now Sir. I mean Dr. White should still have a look at him but I don't think he needs to go to hospital."

"Oh thank G-d." Rivers murmured gruffly, running a hand over his weathered face before squeezing Shepherd's shoulder affectionately, "Well done laddie although I ought to box your ears for scaring us like that."

Shepherd gave a weak smile but looked exhausted as he leant heavily against Reid. Foyle frowned as he saw Shepherd's eyelids droop. "Figure we're all right to move him then Sam?"

"I should say so Sir although we'll have to go slowly."

Foyle nodded and squeezed Shepherd's shoulder gently, "I think we'd best get you along to my office constable." His voice was gentle but Shepherd's breathing sped up slightly at the suggestion of moving and Foyle tightened his grip. "Steady on Patrick, we'll do all the work, easy now..."

After another few minutes Shepherd's breathing had settled again and Foyle gave a sigh of relief. "Sam would you mind making us a pot of tea? Give Shepherd my sugar ration. Milner will you please tell Brown he can take the car back to the garage?" Both Sam and Milner nodded and hurried away while Reid got to his feet as Foyle and Rivers held Shepherd steady.

It took a bit of work to get Shepherd up and down the hall but they managed it and were just settling him behind Foyle's desk when Sam came in with the tea tray, Milner following behind her with another bowl of water and a towel over his arm.

Sam set the tray on the desk smiling at them all before turning to address Shepherd, "Patrick, I've brought you tea and another steam inhalation, do you want your tea first?"

Shepherd nodded tiredly, giving Sam a weak smile when she pressed a mug into his hand, "Thanks." His voice was very rough and he winced slightly before taking a swallow of tea.

Rivers, Foyle, Milner and Reid had all been watching Shepherd with concern but now turned their attention to their tea. Once they had finished Rivers cleared his throat a little gruffly, "I'll go and wait for Dr. White Sir, if you don't need me?"

Foyle nodded, "Thank you Rivers but I think Sam has things well in hand." His tone was warm and Sam blushed a little at the compliment.

"Very good Sir. You do as Miss Stewart says now Shepherd." Rivers voice was stern but there was no denying the fatherly undertone. He considered all the constables his responsibility and Foyle had seen him take more than a few under his wing over the years. Now with the war, many of the constables were younger than ever and the fact that Rivers' own sons were away at sea, he was even more protective of "his lads."

Shepherd nodded "Yes Sir." His voice was still very hoarse and Rivers' frown deepened.

"I'll call you if anything happens Rivers." Foyle said softly, understanding his reluctance to leave.

Rivers let out a relieved breath, "Thank you Sir, I'll bring Dr. White in as soon as he comes."

Once Rivers had left Sam turned back to Shepherd, "We'd better do your inhalation before the water gets any colder, just rest your arms on the desk and lean over the bowl that's it." She had placed the towel around his neck and now went to draw it over his head only to have him make a noise of protest as his breathing sped up again.

"Patrick? No, no Patrick calm down it's all right."

Reid immediately rounded the desk and placed a warm hand on the back of Shepherd's neck while his other rubbed soothing circles on his back. "You're all right son, take a breath, that's it."

Shepherd's breathing had soon calmed again but Foyle noticed that Sam was still frowning and he took a step toward her, "Sam?"

"He really does need to do another inhalation Sir, you hear the whistling when he breathes? That means he still isn't over the attack and the steam will help to fix that."

Foyle nodded gravely, chewing on his cheek. "Right, why don't you get us some fresh water and I'll see what I can do."

Sam nodded and taking the bowl quickly left the room. Foyle studied the constable for a moment before asking, "You heard all that I assume Shepherd?"

The young man nodded, "Yes Sir and I know she's right."

"But?" Foyle asked gently.

Shepherd ducked his head and mumbled, "Makes me feel like I can't breath."

Foyle and Reid frowned at this for a moment before Reid's eyes lit with understanding. "It's the towel isn't it? Having it pulled over your head?"

Shepherd nodded again, clearly embarrassed and Reid squeezed the back of his neck comfortingly. "Perfectly understandable."

Foyle nodded, chewing thoughtfully on his lip, "Yes quite. It is necessary though." He thought for another minute and then asked, "Would it help if you had something else to focus on?"

"Probably Sir, I am terribly sorry for all of this." He sounded painfully young and Foyle shook his head instantly.

"Not at all, not your fault Shepherd, not in the slightest." Foyle spoke firmly and was pleased to see the young man's shoulders relax slightly. "Has Sergeant Rivers ever told you about the time someone came in claiming that Father Christmas' reindeer had damaged his roof?"

The incredulous look on the young man's face was answer enough and Foyle smiled slightly as he settled himself in the other chair, "Well it was a number of years ago now…"

The story was in full swing when Sam returned and she wisely said nothing as she arranged the fresh bowl of water in front of Shepherd and carefully drew the towel over his head. Reid felt his shoulders stiffen and squeezed the back of his neck comfortingly. "Easy son, deep breathes, that's it. Christopher you're forgetting about how 'helpful' his neighbours were."

"Oh yes, so this gentleman lived a good distance from town and his closest neighbours were too older women, sisters who had never married…"

Sam looked questioningly at Milner, who was standing quietly by the door, but he only shrugged, a small smile playing at his lips as he listened to Foyle and Reid trade the story back and forth.

They were not the only ones surprised to see this different side of their superiors, Shepherd was so intrigued by the story that he seemed to have forgotten all about the towel that was covering his head and was breathing steadily, the whistling sound gradually fading.

By the time Dr. White arrived with Sgt. Rivers Sam had taken the bowl of water away and Shepherd's breathing seemed to be completely back to normal. Dr. White still wanted to do a thorough examination and Foyle readily relinquished his office, leaving Rivers and Reid to help Dr. White while he, Milner and Sam went to Milner's office to discuss the case.

As he was leaving Dr. White stuck his head into Milner's office, "Just thought you'd want to know that he'll be fine Mr. Foyle, he'll need to be carefully about exerting himself when it's cold like this though."

Foyle nodded, "Glad to hear it, is there anyway to stop these, err attacks?"

White shook his head, "Not really, and you all handled this one perfectly."

"That was Sam." Foyle said immediately turning to give a Sam an upside down smile.

White's eyebrow rose slightly, "Very well done Miss Stewart, if you get tired of being a driver you might consider a career in nursing."

Sam blushed, "Thank you Sir but I think I'd better stick to driving, I wasn't very good at first aid at the MTC."

"Be that as it may you know how to handle asthma attacks. Oh and one other thing Mr. Foyle, he shouldn't be on his own tonight, in case it flairs up again, if he isn't married make sure he goes home with a friend all right?"

"Of course and thank you." The two men shook hands and White continued on his way out of the station while Foyle headed back to his office. He tapped on the door quietly before opening it to find Rivers and Reid speaking softly while Shepherd dozed in the chair, Foyle's own overcoat draped carefully over him.

"It's no trouble for him to come back with me, Nancy wouldn't mind." Reid was saying but Rivers shook his head.

"She's busy enough with two little ones, he'll come back to mine, with our Douglas and Michael away Peggy will be glad of a boy to fuss over for a night or two. 'Sides not the first time I've taken him home and a bit of familiarity won't hurt after what's happened."

Reid nodded, "If you insist."

Rivers nodded and then started at the sight of Foyle standing in the doorway, "Mr. Foyle Sir, I didn't see you there."

Foyle waved away the apology, "Not to worry. I gather that Shepherd will be going home with you then?"

Rivers nodded, "Yes Sir, Dr. White said someone needed to keep an eye on him for the night."

Foyle nodded, "I'll have Sam run you back now then, your spare is bound to be more comfortable than my chair." He smiled slightly and Rivers smiled back.

"Right you are Sir but I've another few hours left in my shift."

"Then Sam can drive you back to the station once you've got him settled. He clearly needs to rest and the station isn't really the place for that."

Rivers nodded "Yes Sir. I'll just grab my coat."

"Sam's in Milner's office, would you please ask her to bring the car around as you go by?"

Rivers nodded again, "Of course Sir, won't be a minute."

"All in order then?" Foyle asked turning to look at Reid after Rivers had left the room.

Reid nodded, "Yes, Dr. White seemed pleased with him and the poor lad's been asleep since he left, although White said that was to be expected. Shepherd did seem rather worried about this affecting his place in the force though, so if you could have a word with him once he's back…"

Foyle nodded, "Of course."

Before he could continue Rivers was back and Foyle and Reid fell silent as they watched him gently wake Shepherd, "Patrick? Come on laddie time to get you home."

"Hmmm?"

"That's it, on your feet my boy, Mrs. Rivers has the spare all made up and it's stew for dinner tonight, just lean on me."

Shepherd was too sleepy to object and allowed Rivers and Reid to guide him carefully out of the station and into the waiting car.

Foyle smiled softly as he hung his coat and straightened the papers on his desk; he may have asked to be transferred to a position more important to the war effort but he couldn't have asked to work with better men, or women for that matter, than those here at the Hasting Police Force.


	6. Christmas 1945

_Christmas 1945_

Andrew was standing quietly on the Reid's back porch a cigarette in one hand, staring up at the sky. He heard the door creak and turned to see Grace standing in the doorway, "Andrew?"

Andrew stubbed out his cigarette and crossed to her, "Yes, did you need something Gracie?"

She shook her head and looked at him steadily, "I was just wondering where you were, but I can go if you want to be alone. Mummy and Daddy say it's okay to want to be alone sometimes. Just as long as I don't slam the door in Maggie's face"

Andrew chuckled weakly as he considered the offer, "Thank you Gracie but that's alright, although it's pretty cold out here. Are you sure you want to stay?"

She nodded so Andrew slipped off his jacket, placing it over her shoulders and then let her lead him back to the railing where he had been standing. For nearly ten minutes they just contemplated the stars in comfortable silence and then Grace leaned against him, "Andrew?"

Her voice was soft and Andrew replied in a similarly hushed tone, "Yes Gracie?"

"What were you remembering? When I opened the door you looked like you were remembering something."

Andrew froze, caught off guard by the childish insight, "I was just thinking about other Christmases Gracie"

"When you were little?"

Andrew smiled weakly, "Yes, and in the last few years…"

He blinked hard and Grace leaned closer, "The Christmases when you couldn't come home?" She asked quietly and Andrew nodded and picked her up, letting her wrap her arms around his neck. "Last Christmas you couldn't even call" There was a still a touch of hurt in her voice and Andrew held her closer, "Where were you?"

Andrew shivered as she touched on exactly what he'd been thinking of before she came out, ' _I was up in a spitfire with sinusitis wondering if what we were doing actually mattered at all, if Rex and Douglas had died for anything other than war_ ' It might be true but it was hardly something he could say to a 10 year old.

He swallowed hard, "I was in Malta Gracie, remember how your Dad showed you and Maggie where that was on the map?"

"The little island?" Grace asked curiously leaning back to look at him and Andrew nodded, offering her a weak smile. "That's right, I was there flying my spitfire last Christmas."

"Do you miss it?"

Andrew blinked in surprise, "Malta?"

Grace shook her head, "No your spitfire, you always talk about it so I thought maybe you missed it now the war was over"

Andrew chuckled, "Yes I do, some days at least. But I'd rather be with you for Christmas than with my spitfire"

Grace beamed and wrapped her arms around his neck again, "Me too! I hated you being away even though I know you were being brave and keeping us safe. Mr. Churchill said that, he said 'never have so many owed so much to so few' and Daddy said that meant that we should say thank you to you and all the other pilots."

She looked up, eyes shining with sincerity, "Thank you for keeping us all safe Andrew"

Andrew stared at her, his eyes filling with tears and then held her close for a long time before pressing a kiss to the top of her head, "You're a wonder Gracie" he murmured, his voice rough and low, "I want you to know being your big bother and getting to help keep you safe is the one of the most important things in my life"

"Even more important than the special medal the King gave you?" Grace asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

Andrew chuckled and kissed her forehead, "Even more important than that. Now why don't we go and see if Maggie wants to read a story before bed?"

Grace nodded eagerly and Andrew set her down, watching her rush back into the house before putting his cigarette back in his case and staring at the stars one last time, "Happy Christmas chaps"


	7. December 1955

December 1955

"Daddy, which one is Hark?"

Andrew glanced up to find his five year old daughter had stopped and was studying him expectantly, "Sorry darling what?"

"Which angel is Hark?" Rose repeated gesturing to the nativity scene displayed in the shop window.

"Hark?" Andrew asked with confusion.

"From the song Daddy, 'Hark, the Herald Angel'. Which angel is he?" There was a note of exasperation in her voice that made it impossible for Andrew not to chuckle.

He bent and picked Rose up so they could study the scene from the same vantage point and after kissing her forehead he explained. "Hark isn't a name love, it's another way of saying 'listen' "Hark, the Herald angels sing" means listen to the angels sing."

Rose tilted her head in a way that made her look just like Lily and Andrew's grin broadened, "It sounds like a name." She protested.

"I hadn't really thought of it that way but it does a bit." Andrew agreed, "There's no reason why we couldn't name one of these angels 'Hark' if you want to."

Rose beamed and nodded enthusiastically before turning to study the angels carefully. After about 5 minutes of deliberation she pointed to one of the angels holding a trumpet, "That one Daddy, he looks like a Hark."

Andrew nodded seriously, "He does rather doesn't he? Well Hark it is then. We'll have to remember to tell Mummy and Michael about him when we get home. Speaking of which, we'll be late for tea if we aren't careful. Would you like to walk or ride on my shoulders?"

"Ride, please! I can see lots of things when I sit on your shoulders Daddy and I like it, it's like flying!" Andrew laughed wondering if a fascination with flying could be hereditary as he swung his daughter onto his shoulders and headed for home.


	8. Of Sleds and Snowfalls - 1929

December 1929

"Foyle"

"Oh Christopher, thank goodness! I was worried you might be out on a call."

His wife's voice was tight with worry and DS Foyle's grip on the telephone tightened in response, "Rose, what's wrong?"

He heard her take a deep breath and her voice was noticeably calmer when she replied, "Sorry Christopher I shouldn't have worried you like that, I'm fine and I suspect Andrew is as well…"

"You _suspect_ he is, where is he?"

"I'm not sure, he hasn't come in from sledding and I've called around but he isn't at any of his friends' houses. Normally I wouldn't fuss but the snow really has picked up and it will be dark soon…"

Foyle frowned deeply as he looked out his window at the gathering snow, "When did he leave?"

"Just after tea, he took his sled and said he was meeting Rex, Peter and Thomas but that he'd be back before dark."

Foyle nodded even though she couldn't see him, "Right, well it isn't dark yet so he might still come in. Why don't you try the other lads houses again and if he still hasn't turned up by then I'll go and look for them."

"I'm probably being silly…"

"No Rose you're being a mother and a wonderful one. Ring Theresa and the others and then call me back."

They said their goodbyes and Foyle replaced the receiver his face grave. He sat chewing on his cheek for a long minute before getting to his feet and crossing to the window to stare out at the snow.

It was the third day of the unusually heavy snow and all the children were thoroughly enjoying it. Foyle suspected he'd be enjoying it much more if it weren't making such a mess of the roads; it seemed as if all the constables were out directing traffic or helping get cars out of ditches.

His thoughts returned to his son and he frowned worriedly as he began to pace, they _were_ fairly resourceful lads but contrary to what they might think, Andrew having told them just the other day that he was "practically grown up now," they were just boys. Young boys of 10 who, at this moment, were probably cold and scared. Foyle turned again his steady pacing giving the illusion of usefulness while he waited for Rosalind to call back.

Ten minutes later DS Foyle was hurrying down the corridor hat in hand, having asked for and received permission to leave early from his inspector. He strode quickly to the desk, "Sgt. Rivers have you seen Sgt. Reid lately?"

"Yes Sir, as a matter of fact he just came in about ten minutes ago. Looked quite cold, I believe he went into the kitchen for some tea."

Foyle nodded curtly and turned on his heel, "Thank you Rivers."

Sgt. Hugh Reid was in the kitchen, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea when Foyle stepped into the room. He looked up with a wry smile, "You heading out? Got to warn you it's getting worse, might want to put it off if possible."

"It isn't."

The words came out sharply and Reid's expression immediately sobered. "What's happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure, hopefully nothing…" Reid's brow furrowed in confusion and Foyle forced himself to take a deep breath, "Rose called, Andrew and his friends went out sledding and haven't come back yet, they're probably fine but it'll be dark soon and as you said the weather's getting worse…"

Reid's expression had grown increasingly grave as he listened and he hastily swallowed the rest of his tea, "We'd better get a move on then."

"You don't have to come…" Foyle began only to be cut off by Hugh's sharp look.

"Don't be ridicules Christopher of course I do. Now do you have any idea where they might have gone sledding?"

"No not precisely but I'm going to meet John Davis and Michael Ferguson at Michael's store and they might."

"Right, normally I'd suggest we drive but with the way the roads are there's probably a better chance that we'd end up in a ditch than there is that we'd get there without incident."

Foyle nodded and they both tightened the scarves around their necks before turning up their collars as they stepped out into the blowing snow. By the time they reached Ferguson & Son dusk was quickly becoming complete darkness and the snow was falling heavily enough to make it difficult to see.

They stepped inside, blinking at the sudden brightness and welcome warmth. "May I help you? Oh hello Christopher." Michael Ferguson rounded the back counter and came toward them, "Come and get warm, John's just arrived as well."

Foyle nodded and gestured toward Reid, "Thank you Michael. I believe you may know Sgt. Reid? He's come to help us find the lads."

Mr. Ferguson nodded and shook Reid's hand warmly, "Yes I do believe we've met at church. Thank you very much for your help Sergeant, very kind of you."

"Happy to, the quicker we find them the better."

"Very true" Michael agreed as he led the way to the backroom when John Davis was already holding a mug of tea.

Introductions were again quickly made and it was decided that they would head toward one of the farther hills which Thomas had expressed an interest in to his father. John, a fisherman by trade, had brought a rope with him so they wouldn't lose each other in the storm.

They also agreed that even if they didn't find the boys straight away they would have to go back to one of the houses to make sure they boys hadn't made it home on their own. It was decided that Steep Land made the most sense, as it was closest to where they were going.

Once everything was decided Hugh asked to borrow the telephone so he could cancel his date while Michael went upstairs to explain the plan to his wife Theresa who was busy trying to keep their younger son Matthew occupied.

As soon as he heard Hugh had a date Foyle tried to insist that he keep it but Hugh shook his head, "I'm a policeman Christopher and the woman I marry will have to live with that, might as well start now."

Foyle raised an eyebrow, "There umm anything you'd like to share Hugh?"

Reid flushed, "No, we're not…it's not like…I just mean…"

Foyle took pity on him and clapped him on the shoulder, "Of course, I'll leave you to make your call." And with that he walked away to see about finding torches.

It was dark and cold when they stepped outside and the urgency of their task seemed to strike them all, just like the biting wind that nipped at their faces. They gripped the rope with one hand and their torches with the other and headed off into the storm with grim determination.

They were fairly close to the hill when John, who was at the front, held up a hand, "Wait a minute, listen!"

They all froze, listening intently as the faint sound of singing reached their ears. The wind made it difficult to isolate precisely where the singing was coming from but it was getting louder as they walked on, the words discernable now and Foyle breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Andrew's soprano among the others.

" _Holy infant so tender and mild,_

 _Sleep in heavenly peace,_

 _Sleep in heavenly peace."_

"All right Rex?" Andrew asked

"Yes but I'm tired of going in circles."

"I know but we'll only get ourselves more lost if we do anything else, we can walk in the other direction if you like."

"Good idea I was starting to get dizzy. Come on Thomas our Dads' are bound to come soon." All three father's smiled at Peter's words.

"Mine won't"

"Of course he won't, he's in London! Be reasonable Rex, he probably doesn't even know what's happened and even if he did there's no way he could have made it down yet." John chuckled quietly at his son's indignation although having met Mr. Talbot they all knew that he was unlike to have accompanied them even if he were in town.

"What should we sing next?" they heard Thomas ask.

"We've already sung everything at least twice" Rex pointed out wearily.

"I know but how else will they be able to find us? How about 'Good King Wenceslas?"

"Alright. Good King Wenceslas last looked out…"

The group of searchers quietly worked their way closer, not wanting to call out until they could at least see the boys; what they saw first was their sleds. The boys had stuck them into the ground in a rough circle clearly attempting to block the wind.

The singing broke off as the boys caught sight of the torchlight, "Hello?" Peter called cautiously.

"Peter!"

"Dad! See I told you they'd come soon!" And two young boys came running out of the circle of sleds and leapt into their father's arms.

Foyle watched as Michael and John hugged their sons and look them over for injury, his eyes flicking back to where they had been trying to see his own son. _'I know I heard Andrew's voice…_ '

"Dad?"

Releasing the rope Foyle started towards the boy's rough shelter, "Andrew?"

"Over here Dad." In a few long strides Foyle reached the sleds and immediately saw why his son had not rushed to greet him. Rex was leaning heavily on Andrew, one arm over his shoulders while Andrew had an arm wrapped firmly around his waist.

"Andrew, Rex, what's happened?" He asked urgently as he crossed to the boy, eyes sweeping over them both, immediately noticing the scarf that was wrapped around Rex's left ankle.

"Rex hurt his ankle on his last run. We were going to just pull him home on his sled but then the storm picked up and it got dark and we weren't sure which way home was."

"I see, well it's high time we got you all home, your mums are worried sick."

Andrew hung his head, "Sorry Dad, we didn't _mean_ to get lost."

Foyle smiled reassuringly at his son, "I know you didn't Andrew."

The others had joined them now and Foyle glanced up at Peter and Thomas, pleased to see that apart from clearly being tired and cold they seemed fine.

"Hurt your ankle have you Rex?"

"Yes Mr. Ferguson but I'll be all right."

Michael smiled, "Of course you will lad, best get you home though. Thomas and Peter gather the sleds, we should go before the storm gets any worse."

The two boys did as they were told while the adults moved a few steps away to quietly discuss the best course of action. John spoke first, "I'd say we could just pull them all on their sleds but I'm worried about them getting colder, they've been out for several hours now."

Foyle nodded gravely, "I quite agree John. Probably best if we carry them home, only question is who will carry Rex."

"I'd be happy to, if he agrees of course."

"You sure Hugh?"

"Yes, then you can each carry your sons, you'll know better then anyone else how to keep them awake, which I suspect might be a bit difficult after the day they've had."

"I have a feeling you may be right Sgt. Reid," Michael said grimly, "Now let's ask Rex if he agrees."

Rex had looked somewhat unsurely at Reid and then questioningly at the other boys but after a whispered conversation between the four of them, which was clearly audible to all the adults present, he had agreed.

It had taken some maneuvering but before long Rex was tucked inside Hugh's coat, clinging to his neck while Hugh had one strong arm wrapped around the little boy's back to hold him steady. The sleds went over the adults' shoulders, while the other three boys were picked up and similarly tucked inside fathers' coats with the instructions that they had to try and stay awake.

They were about halfway back when Andrew's breathing began to even out Foyle jostled him gently in his arms, "Andrew? Andrew wake up."

""m tired" was the muffled reply and Foyle sighed.

"I know you are son but you have to stay awake just a little longer."

"Why?"

"Because we need to get you warm again before you can go to sleep."

"But I'm warm and so are you."

Foyle sighed again and shifted Andrew slightly so he was a little more upright, "I'm glad you aren't cold Andrew but that doesn't change the fact that I need you to stay awake until we are home with Mum. Can you do that for me?"

Andrew nodded against his shoulder, "Uh huh." There was a pause and then Andrew spoke again, his words slightly slurred by sleepiness, "We knew you'd come, you and Mr. Davis and Mr. Ferguson but we weren't sure about Mr. Talbot…I'm glad Mr. Reid came."

"So am I Andrew" Foyle replied although he couldn't help frowning at the mention of Rex's father.

He used the word rather loosely as the man had proven time and again that he fulfilled the role in name alone. He knew it was only a matter of time until Rex's parents sent him off to boarding school and he was already dreading how devastated Andrew would be when that occurred.

In the meantime he and Rosalind, as well as the Davis' and Fergusons' were doing their best to provide the lad with the attention his parents apparently couldn't be bothered to give him between their frequent trips to London.

"Dad?"

"Yes Andrew?"

"Is Mum very worried?"

"Well…she was concerned when I spoke to her but once she hears what's happened and sees that you are all right I'm sure she'll be fine."

"We didn't want to get lost, it just happened."

"I know Andrew and it was very good thinking to not keep going when you weren't sure which way to go, it would have been much harder to find you if you had."

"That's what Peter said. He said his Dad always told him to stay put if he fell overboard and Uncle Charles said the same so we did, 'xcept we walked in circles so we wouldn't freeze and sang so you'd hear us."

"Those were exactly the right things to do Andrew and I'm proud of you lads for keeping your heads and not panicking."

Andrew smiled proudly and shifted a little in his father's arms, "Panicking doesn't help anything it only makes you scared and stops you thinking sensibly."

Foyle smiled into his scarf as Andrew recited the words he had told him many times, "That's right. Look we're almost home."

Andrew turned to look over his shoulder and saw that they had made it back to their street and the porch light was burning brightly, clearly visible through the still-falling snow. "Do you think Mum's made cocoa?"

It was such a normal thing for Andrew to say on an evening that had been anything _but_ normal that Foyle couldn't help chuckling, "You know even if she hasn't I suspect she would if you asked her to."

They were soon at the foot of the steps and by silent agreement Foyle moved to the front of the group and began to climb the stairs. He had only made it up two when the door opened and he looked up to see his beautiful wife standing in the doorway.

"Christopher!"

"He's all right Rose, they all are." He assured her gesturing behind him with his head to where Michael, John and Hugh were all standing with their armfuls of little boy.

"Oh thank goodness! Now come inside all of you the fire's hot and I've got a kettle and cocoa on the stove."

Foyle smiled and gave Andrew a gentle jostle, "Hear that Andrew? Mum does have cocoa ready."

"Mum's the best" was his son's sleepy reply and Foyle's lips pulled down into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at his wife, "Yes she is."

Rosalind ushered them into the lounge and they placed the boys on the settee and set about easing them out of their damp outerwear while Rosalind called Helen, Theresa and the Talbot's housekeeper, to let them know that the boys were fine and in Thomas and Peter's case would be home soon. She told Mrs. Murphy that they would keep Rex with them for the night and Christopher would bring him home the next morning.

In less time than it takes to tell the boys were bundled in blankets, sleepily sipping cocoa while their fathers (and Hugh) stood nearby drinking tea. With the exception of Rex's ankle, which to Foyle's cursory examination seemed to be lightly sprained, the boys appeared to have suffered no ill effects from their little adventure. To everyone's relief there was no sign of frostbite on their fingers or toes and the exhaustion, which had them all almost asleep right now would be easily cured by a goodnight's sleep.

After borrowing dry socks, jumpers and gloves Michael and John bundled their sons back up and headed for home, promising to call once they got in. Hugh took his leave at the same time, brushing aside their thanks with a smile, "I'm glad I could help Christopher, you know that."

"Cost you a date…"

"It did but this was where I needed to be, Nancy agreed so don't worry on that score."

He was smiling the smile of a man in love and Foyle suppressed a chuckle with some difficulty as he clapped him on the shoulder, "Well, thank you just the same. Come over for dinner on Sunday? Bring Miss Dolby if she's willing, we'd like to meet her."

Hugh's grin widened and Foyle's lips pulled down into a smile, "I'll ask her, let you know by Friday."

"Perfect. Thank you again Hugh, do call when you get in won't you?"

"Of course, goodnight Christopher."

Foyle watched until Hugh was down the steps and then locked the door and went back into the lounge. Rosalind was standing by the fire, her eyes fixed on the settee where Andrew and Rex had finally succumbed to their exhaustion.

He crossed to her and put an arm around her shoulders, "They're fine Rose."

Rosalind nodded even as she turned into his embrace, "I know, but Christopher I was so worried…"

Foyle nodded as he gently stroked her hair, "So was I darling but they are smart lads and they did everything they should have, well except for sledding until it was almost dark."

The teasing tone of his voice elicited a slightly watery chuckle from his wife and he bent his head to kiss her chastely, "Love you. Now shall we put our young adventurers to bed?"

Rose nodded and drew back quickly wiping her eyes, "Yes, I'll just go and put hot bricks in both of their beds and then you can bring them up."

Andrew and Rex were soon changed and tucked in and a short time later Christopher and Rosalind retired as well. _It really is the simple things_ , Foyle reflected as he lay in bed with his wife in his arms, _'knowing Rose and Andrew are safe and well, all of us being together, it's really all I need.'_

As expected all four boys were bursting with energy the next day, although Rex was slightly hindered by his ankle. Dr. White examined him and deemed it to be a mild strain, wrapping it and telling him to stay off it for a few days. Andrew immediately promised to pull him everywhere on his sled and insisted on coming along when Foyle took Rex home.

Their mothers' kept them close for a day but after that they were once again building snow forts, throwing snowballs and flying down hills on their sleds with an abandon that only little boys can truly understand. They had all received a talking to from their fathers (Foyle having spoken to both Andrew and Rex) and were consequently careful to be well on their way home before dusk fell negating the chance of repeating their, "adventure" as they called it.


	9. December 1921

December 1921

It was the Saturday before Christmas and when Andrew woke up Christopher kissed her tenderly, murmuring, "Go back to sleep darling, I'll get him" so the sun was just coming up when Rosalind woke again and was met with the sight of Christopher coming back into the bedroom with a cup of tea in his hand and Andrew on his hip.

"Mama!" Andrew crowed happily, and Christopher's lips turned down into a very soft smile as he placed the tea on the bedside table and then leaned down to kiss her, "Morning my love"

"Mama so ou pitty! Dada An go!" Andrew interjected before she could reply and she looked questioningly at Christopher.

Christopher just smiled and straightening crossed to the window, "Shall we show Mummy Andrew?"

Andrew nodded emphatically, "Mama see!" Christopher grinned and drew the curtains back and Rosalind could tell that there was something different in the quality of the light even before Andrew's eyes widened and he wriggled excitedly, "Pitty Mama!"

"It snowed overnight" Christopher explained before she needed to ask, "I told Andrew we'd go out in it after breakfast"

"Dada An go?" Andrew confirmed looked questioningly at his parents in turn.

"Yes, after breakfast we'll go out in the snow"

"Bicits?" Andrew asked eagerly and his parents chuckled.

"Porridge" his father corrected "But maybe some biscuits after we've played in a snow a little" He grinned at Rosalind before looking back at Andrew, "Do you want to ask Mummy if she'll come out with us?"

Andrew beamed, squirming impatiently, "Mama go so?"

Rosalind's heart melted at the quiet joy in Christopher's face as he pressed his lips to their son's head, "I'd love to come with you and Daddy Andrew!"

"Mama go! Dada go! An go!"

Christopher chuckled gently tossing the excited little boy in the air making him giggle with delight, "Well we'd better get breakfast made then son so we can all go out in the snow"

An hour later after breakfast had been eaten, dishes washed and Andrew had been wrangled into warm enough clothing for the occasion they headed out to the back garden, Andrew held securely in his father's arm.

The little boy's eyes widened in amazement as he took in the bright, untouched snow, "Pitty! Down Dada! An go!"

Christopher chuckled, holding his son closer as he carefully negotiated the steps, "Just a minute Andrew, snow is slippery son you don't want to fall on the steps"

When they reached the bottom of the stairs Andrew was practically vibrating with excitement and sharing a smile with Rosalind Christopher carefully set him on his feet. To their surprise instead of taking off at full speed Andrew stood stock-still slowly taking in everything around him in a way that reminded Rosalind so powerfully of Christopher that tears filled her eyes.

After a moment Christopher crouched down next to their son, "It's very bright isn't Andrew?"

Andrew nodded, "Pitty Dada!"

"Yes, very pretty" Christopher agreed as he carefully scooped up a handful of snow, holding it out for Andrew's inspection. Andrew peered at it curiously, sticking his fingers in it when Rosalind carefully removed one of his gloves.

"Wet?"

Christopher nodded, "Yes it is wet. Snow is frozen water Andrew"

Andrew seemed to considered this and then slapped his little hand on the powdery snow, frowning slightly when only a few flakes moved, "No spash Dada"

His father chuckled, "Snow isn't like the water in your bath Andrew, it doesn't splash. But we can make a snowman!"

Andrew smiled at the excitement in his father's voice even though he didn't really understand, "So-man Mama!"

Rosalind laughed, "Shall we help Daddy make a snowman?"

Andrew nodded eagerly and happily toddled after his father only to fall face first as he encountered the unfamiliar terrain of snow covered grass. He let out a surprised "Oh" and pushed himself up again, giggling as the snow shifted under his weight and a moment later he was gleefully making the messiest snow angel his parents had ever seen, his joyful laughter making them laugh in turn.

By the time they went in for cocoa and biscuits there was a small snowman standing on the lawn wearing Christopher's old hat, a scarf that had belonged to his father and a crocked smile that Andrew had proudly helped Rosalind fashion out of small stones.

There was also very little untouched snow left as Andrew had decided that the most exciting thing to do with snow was roll in it and had done so with abandon, his laughter increasing when his gleeful calls of "Dada pway!" had resulted in his father lying down beside him. Andrew had happily clambered all over his father as Christopher attempted to make a snow angel while Rosalind looked on, laughing and wishing she had a camera but knowing even without any photographs she would never forget watching Christopher introduce their two and a half year old son to snow.


	10. Christmas 1942

Christmas 1942

They were sitting by the fire drinking tea after the midnight service when Andrew said, "Dad, do you think one man's death can truly change the world?"

Foyle took a sip of tea as he considered the question, and more importantly what he believed lay behind it. "Well for his family, unquestionably."

Andrew nodded, turning his cup around in his hands, "And for the world?"

His voice was low and hesitant, eyes awash with uncertainty and the pain that never seemed to leave them now and Foyle hated the Nazis all over again for making his son consider a man's worth in such a way.

He took another sip of tea and then settled back in his chair, "Depends on the circumstances of course but generally speaking I'd say no."

There was sharp intake of breath from Andrew and Foyle tilted his head trying to catch his son's eye as he continued; "But I think his life can"

Andrew stared at him, his eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears and Foyle smiled gently. The moment seemed to stretch and then Andrew looked down, wiped his eyes and smiled back.

His relief was palpable and years seemed to lift off his face and just for a moment Foyle saw the boy his son had been just 3 years ago. Now it was Foyle who looked down, blinking hard as he tried to swallow down the emotion that had filled his chest at this Christmas miracle he hadn't dared to wish for.


	11. December 24, 1941

December 24, 1941

It was a bitterly cold evening and Detective Sergeant Milner's bad leg was aching in protest as he rose wearily from behind his desk and headed slowly toward the front desk. Being Christmas Eve they were even shorter staffed than usual, Mr. Foyle having given everyone he could leave. Milner had offered to stay, not wanting to spend any more time than he had to in his painfully empty house.

He was just filing his report when the door swung open bringing in a gust of cold night air and a young man in naval lieutenant uniform. He looked exhausted and Milner had rounded the desk before he really registered it. "Hello."

The young man started slightly, instinctively coming to attention, "Hello Sir."

"Anything I can help you with?" Milner asked giving the man a quick once over, relieved to see that he didn't appear hurt.

"Yes I'm looking for my father, Sergeant Rivers, do you know if he's in?"

Milner nodded, "I believe he's down at the cells. I'm sorry but he didn't mention that he was expecting you?" Milner chose his words carefully; sudden visits home weren't always good news, especially during the war.

The young man gave Milner a tired smile as he shook his head, "He's not, wasn't sure I'd be able to get back so I didn't say, didn't want to get their hopes up. It's only a 72 hour pass and I've spent most the first 12 hours just getting down here."

He swayed slightly and Milner quickly caught his arm, "I say you look dead on your feet, you'd best come along to my office, it's warmer there and you can rest while I fetch your father."

The lieutenant hesitated "I wouldn't want to impose."

"Nonsense, why have a warm office with no one in it?"

The younger man smiled tiredly, "Thanks, Joseph Rivers by the way." He held out a hand, which Milner shook warmly.

"Paul Milner; pleased to meet you."

"You're a detective then?" Joseph asked as they headed toward Milner's office, nodding toward Milner's suit.

"Yes a detective sergeant. I was in the army at the start, got invalided out. Your brother's in the navy too isn't he?

Joseph nodded "Yes, his ship's too far out to get back for Christmas from what I gather."

Milner nodded sympathetically, "I'm sorry to hear that but I know your father will be very pleased to see you." They had reached the office by this point and Milner quickly opened the door and gestured to one of the chairs. "Please sit down and make yourself comfortable, I'll just go and find your father."

Joseph smiled as he sank wearily into the nearest chair, "Thanks, very kind of you."

"Not at all. I won't be long."

As he had thought Sgt. John Rivers was calmly sitting behind the small desk in the middle of the cellblock, working on the duty roster for the upcoming week. He smiled pleasantly as he saw Milner coming toward him "Sergeant Milner, what can I do for you?"

"Sgt. Rivers, I was hoping I could speak to you in my office about something that err just came in." Milner said with a slight smile, not wanting to ruin Joseph Rivers' surprise.

"Of course Sir just a moment." Rivers rose and headed into one of the backrooms; there were the sounds of a muffled conversation before he emerged a minute later. "Just had to let Wilkins know I was stepping upstairs. What is it that's come in?"

Milner hesitated for a moment, "Easiest to just discuss it in my office."

Rivers nodded, "As you say Sir" and they made their way upstairs in silence.

Once they reached his office Milner opened the door and gestured for Rivers to precede him, fighting to keep his expression neutral. Rivers stepped inside and froze, "Joseph?"

Lieutenant Rivers had risen when he heard the door open and stood grinning at his father, "Hello Dad!"

The sound of his son's voice seemed to break through Rivers' shock and he stepped forward and pulled his son into his arms. " _Joseph_ , my boy." His voice shook with emotion and Milner quietly closed the door, leaving the two men alone.

For a long minute there was silence as Rivers, tears brimming in his eyes, held his son for the first time in 10 months. "I'm all right Dad." Joseph promised his voice muffled by his father's shoulder.

Rivers nodded but didn't loosen his hold, swallowing hard to try and ease the lump in his throat. "Why didn't you write you silly boy? I'd have met your train."

"I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it Dad, I've only got a 72 hour pass and I didn't want to get your hopes up in case it didn't work out." He paused and then said regretfully "We only got into port on Tuesday and I've been on trains all day so I haven't had a chance to get you and Mum anything for Christmas, I'm sorry."

Rivers shook his head as he studied his son through misty eyes; "Having you home safe and sound is the best gift we could have asked for son, except of course if your brother were home too" his voice was low and rough with emotion.

Joseph nodded and closed his eyes as he relaxed into his father's embrace, feeling safer than he had in months. "I wish Dougie was here." His voice was soft, almost childish and Rivers felt the lump in his throat grow as he pulled his boy closer.

"I know Joey, so do I. We just have to pray that we'll all be together next year." Joseph nodded, his head still resting on his father's shoulder.

A quiet knock on the door caused them to pull apart both wiping at their eyes, "Yes?"

The door opened to reveal Milner holding a tea tray, "Sorry to interrupt but I thought both of you might like some tea."

Rivers nodded and offered Milner a smile as he stepped forward to take the tray, "Very kind of you Milner, you will join us won't you? Seeing as we have taken over your office."

Milner smiled, "I'm glad of the company."

Rivers frowned slightly at this. He knew that things weren't quite right on the home front for DS Milner but he didn't like to interfere, besides he knew Mr. Foyle kept as close an eye on Milner and Miss Stewart as he did on his constable so he just smiled again. "Pleased to be of service then."

They talked about nothing of consequence until they had finished their tea and then Rivers stood and smiled down at his son, "We'd best get home Joseph."

The lieutenant nodded and stood only to sway slightly before his father caught his arm. "I'm all right," He promised as his concerned father guided him back into his chair, "Just tired."

Rivers frowned and brought a practiced hand up to check his temperature relieved to find his son's brow cool. He gently brushed the hair off his son's forehead, "When's the last time you slept?"

"I got a few hours yesterday but I had to be up earlier to make my train."

"Best get you home then, you can have an early supper and then head to bed, how does that sound?"

Joseph gave him a tired smile, "Sound's perfect Dad."

Rivers nodded and then turned, surprised to find that Milner had left the room while they'd been speaking. A moment later though Milner came back in, "Wilkins is just bringing a car around." He said, studying Joseph with concern.

"There's no need for that." Joseph protested but Milner shook his head.

"No I insist, besides our petrol usage is lower than normal with some many of the men being away and if it stays too low then London will cut back our fuel deliveries which is the last thing we need. You'll be doing us a favour really."

Rivers smiled knowing it wasn't quite that simple but appreciating the spirit of Milner's offer and his effort to make sure Joseph didn't feel like he was being treated as an invalid.

"Doesn't leave us much choice then does it? Come on my boy time to go home." As he spoke Rivers eased his son to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist as he led him carefully out of the room.

Milner followed behind, steadying Joseph when Rivers had to go and retrieve his coat and then holding the door as they made their way out of the station. He waited until Rivers had his son settled in the car before catching him gently by the arm. "You're to take the next two days off, Mr. Foyle's orders."

"But…" Rivers began but Milner shook his head.

"We'll be fine." He promised "Mr. Foyle was adamant that you weren't to come into the station until after Christmas."

Rivers glanced at Joseph and then back at Milner and nodded a grateful smile on his lips. "Thank you lad."

Milner smiled back, "Not at all, I hope you and Mrs. Rivers have a very happy Christmas."

"Thank you Milner, and you."

As Milner watched the car pull away he couldn't help smiling. Regardless of how quiet and cold his own house might be, the knowledge that the Rivers' would be filled with unexpected joy made him feel happier than he had in days and he couldn't help whistling as he went back into the station.


	12. December 1925

December 1925

Christopher Foyle paused in the doorway, a smile playing at his lips as he watched his 6-year-old son concentrating very earnestly on whatever he was attempting to create with all the paper that was spread around him.

The quiet of the lounge was broken as Andrew made a frustrated noise and crumpled up the piece of paper he'd been working on. Frowning slightly Foyle stepped into the room, smiling when Andrew turned to look at him, "What's all this then?"

"I'm trying to make a tree for Uncle Charles but it's not working"

"A tree?" Foyle asked as he crossed the room to crouch beside his son, his eyes flicking over the art supplies around them before returning to Andrew's face.

Andrew nodded seriously, "Yes, a Christmas tree. Mummy said he won't have a tree on his ship and if he doesn't have a tree then there won't be anywhere for Father Christmas to leave his presents!"

Foyle bit back a chuckle as Andrew's eyes widened at the very idea, "I see, so you want to send Uncle Charles a Christmas tree in the next parcel Mummy sends?"

Andrew nodded again, "Yes, but none of my trees work." He looked at the crumpled papers around him, shoulders slumping before looking appealingly at his father, "Will you help me Daddy?"

Foyle smiled and moving some of the paper out of the way settled himself on the floor, "Be happy too. Now what seems to be the problem?"

Half an hour later Rosalind came down from her little studio to make a cup of tea and paused in the doorway to the lounge, her heart filling as she took in the sight before her; Andrew and Christopher were both sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, paper and cardboard spread around them, wearing almost identical expressions of concentration as they bent over whatever they were working on.

As she watched Christopher lifted Andrew into his lap, his larger hand carefully covering their son's as they worked together to cut what appeared to be a star out of a piece of cardstock. She could have happily stayed there for hours but she knew the longer she lingered the more likely Christopher was to notice her so she crept quietly towards the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Leaving the tea to steep Rosalind stepped back into the hall just as Andrew exclaimed, "Oh Daddy it's perfect!"

Smiling at the delight in their little boy's voice Rosalind reached the lounge just in time to see Christopher ruffling Andrew's hair affectionately. They both turned towards her, Andrew immediately racing forward exclaiming, "Mummy come see! Daddy helped me make a tree for Uncle Charles and it stands and everything!"

He tugged her impatiently across the room and then stood, bouncing excitedly from foot to foot, as she took in the small tree that had been carefully fashioned out of a combination of coloured paper and cardboard.

The tree stood, as Andrew had said, aided she realized by a flap of cardboard that had been attached to the back and then carefully bent to act as a prop. The tree was of course green, with several strips of red paper glued to it as garlands, some scribbles of colour she assumed were meant to be baubles, and at the top was the star she had seen them cutting out earlier.

She glanced at Christopher who smiled softly in return while Andrew, having exhausted his store of patience, asked eagerly, "Do you like it Mummy?"

"Yes, I do Andrew. I love it and I know Uncle Charles will too!"

Andrew beamed, "Daddy helped me make it stand and it can lie flat so it fits in the parcel and now Father Christmas will have somewhere to leave Uncle Charles presents!"

As was often the case, Andrew delivered all this information in a single breath and Christopher chuckled softly as he rested a hand on Andrew's shoulder, "It was all Andrew's idea, just needed a little help with the engineering"

He looked proudly at their son, lips pulling down into a smile and Rosalind smiled back, "It was a wonderful idea and it's a lovely tree! We'll put it in the mail this week to make sure it has lots of time to get to Uncle Charles before Christmas"

Andrew beamed looking eagerly between his parents, "How many sleeps till Christmas?"

Foyle smiled at the familiar question, "Quite a few Andrew, it's only the 4th of December, after all"

"So 15 sleeps?" Andrew asked hopefully and Foyle chuckled, ruffling his hair again.

"21 sleeps" He corrected gently, "So we know Uncle Charles will get his tree in time. Now, we'd better tidy up and then we could kick a football around for a bit, how does that sound?"

"I want to have a kickabout but I wish it wasn't so many sleeps till Christmas" Andrew sighed and looked at his parents in turn, "It's lots and lots of sleeps till Uncle Charles comes home isn't it?"

Rosalind nodded, breathing carefully around the familiar knot of worry that surfaced whenever she thought of her brother during his deployments, "Yes it is, but we can send him some lovely things in his parcel, including this wonderful tree and I'm sure we'll have a letter from him soon." Andrew nodded and Rosalind pressed a quick kiss to his head, "Now while you and Daddy tidy up, I'll get us all some tea and biscuits"

As expected, Andrew brightened at that and the Christmas tree was soon carefully wrapped in tissue paper and sent off to the battleship that Lieutenant Charles Howard was serving on.

* * *

December 1945

"You kept it?"

Andrew's voice was low but full of wonder and Charles turned towards his nephew, surprised to see him standing frozen in the doorway, "What was that Andrew?"

Andrew blinked and then drew in a shaky breath tearing his eyes away from the mantelpiece, "The tree…on the mantel… I didn't realize you'd…"

"Kept it?" Charles finished and Andrew nodded, unsure if it was joy or pain that was making it so hard for him to breathe. Charles turned to look at the small paper tree that stood in pride of place on the mantel; the once vibrant colours had faded with time and one of the red garlands was now held on with a piece of scotch tape, but it still made him smile every time he looked at it, just as it had when he first received it over twenty years earlier.

He clapped Andrew warmly on the shoulder, "Of course I did, I took it with me on every winter deployment that ran the risk of extending over Christmas until I was promoted and we've kept it on the mantel ever since. Wouldn't be Christmas without it"

Andrew nodded again, unable to speak around the lump of emotion in his throat. It was so long ago that he'd made that tree with Dad and most of the time his life before the war felt like a story he'd read as opposed to his own life, but seeing that tree again proved that it was real; that he had once been a boy who knew nothing of war and death and sinusitis and split second decisions with the fate of a nation resting on your shoulders.

The hand on his shoulder tightened and Andrew looked up to find his uncle watching him, his face soft with understanding. "It really is over now Andrew, I know it feels impossible but it's true."

He blinked suddenly reminded that Uncle Charles knew better than anyone how discombobulating it felt to switch between the military and civilian worlds and he drew a shaky breath. "Sometimes it feels like it must be a dream, like I'll wake up at any minute to the scramble siren…"

His voice was low and rough with emotion and Charles nodded, "I felt the same every time I came home, nearly jumped out of my skin when an ambulance went by and tried to rush to the bridge we didn't have." He shook his head, giving his nephew a wry smile even as his grip tightened a little more, "It gets easier with time Andrew, you can ask Alice. But you've got to give yourself a chance; it's not a switch you can just flick off, certainly not after nearly 6 years of war"

Andrew nodded head down and Charles squeezed his shoulder again before releasing it and crossing to the sideboard, "Scotch? Or would you rather have tea?"

Taking a deep breath Andrew gave the paper Christmas tree a final glance and followed his uncle across the room, "Scotch if you don't mind Uncle Charles"

* * *

A/N: I'm not sure what the logistics of getting mail to deployed naval ships was in 1925 but for the story to work some creative license has been taken.


End file.
